


Thong Song

by Remyroo17



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, PWP, Plot What Plot, Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 19:03:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6341464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remyroo17/pseuds/Remyroo17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kommissar makes a joking request of Beca. She doesn't know that Beca completely understood it. It works out okay in the end. </p><p>PWP, my first Becommissar. Their hanky-panky time involves a rather large mirror, because that's hot as hell. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thong Song

“ _Let me see that thong, baby.”_

That’s what Kommissar was singing. And she was singing it while pointing at Beca and if Beca were honest, she just about melted right there and then.

She had felt an immediate attraction to the older woman, when they ran into each other at the car show. Beca just wished she could find a way to speak properly when Kommissar was around. Twice, now, she’d given the blonde a compliment when she’d meant to be insulting her.

Kommissar winked at her, then, and Beca realised she had been unabashedly staring, watching her body move so fluidly with the song, with the music they were creating.

She refused to admit that she was already turned on. It was hot in here, she was probably just sweating in unfortunate places – at least, that’s the lie she told herself.

Barely once, all night, did she take her eyes off the tall drink of water that was DSM’s Kommissar. Even when shaking hands with the Packers, she was looking past them at the blonde, watching the way she sipped at her drink.

When they’d entered the creepy dude’s basement, Kommissar had been drinking something fruity, with an umbrella in. But now, she had a tumbler of whiskey in her hand, on the rocks. Beca thought that was hot.

Who was she kidding? She thought everything about Kommissar was hot. From her German accent to the tight bun in her hair. From her perfectly toned ass to –

“Tiny maus!”

Crap.

Here she is again, always appearing at the worst possible time. Beca realises she’s been stood there on her own for a minute or so – Jesse is buying the Packers a round of drinks at the bar.

“Come to gloat, you chiselled statue of perfection? Dammit.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to regain her composure, then crossed her arms over her chest and fixed Kommissar with a glare.

“I was hoping to buy you a commiseration drink – which I better not make a habit of, or I shall be penniless.”

Beca narrowed her eyes, and neglected to make a second attempt at an insult. “Fine, I’ll have a beer. This is the only time you’re ever buying me a drink, though. Next time it has to be dinner – god damn it!”

This time she covered her mouth, as if that was going to help her stop. Kommissar just walked away with a smirk, and returned a moment later with an ice cold bottle.

“I chose for you. I hope you like German beer.”

“I like German something. My god, can you stop?” She sighed exasperatedly.

Kommissar tilted her head slightly. “I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re messing with me! You’re doing _something_ , and it’s probably trying to sabotage the Bellas before worlds! You’re…” Beca’s eyes widened slightly. “I bet you’re wearing pheromones so I’ll be attracted to you, and my focus won’t be on the Bellas, and we’ll suck because of it and lose and you’ll win!”

Kommissar laughed, and Beca gulped at the sound. Here she goes with the melting again.

“Darling, I have no need to sabotage you. You do that to yourselves. Besides, if I did want to sabotage you?” She laughed again. “Ich würde dich einfach töten.”

Beca narrowed her eyes. In a sudden moment of clarity, she decided to pretend as though she didn’t know German, figuring it could give her a ~~leg over~~ leg up on Kommissar if she thought Beca couldn’t understand her.

“I’m not even sure I want to know what that means.”

“You don’t. Now, enjoy your drink, tiny maus. We will meet again at the Worlds opening party.” She glanced around, and then leant in, her lips almost touching Beca’s ear, and whispered: “Ich werde sehen wollen dass riemen.” With that, she winked and walked away, believing Beca didn’t understand what she had said.

But oh boy, did she understand just fine.

~

“Beca, are you nearly ready? We’re going to be late!” Chloe called through the bathroom door. Normally, she would just walk in, but Beca had taken to locking bathroom doors recently. Something about wanting actual privacy.

“I’ll be right there!” Beca called back, adjusting her dress one last time. Yes, she was wearing a dress, and it was entirely of her own volition. She hadn’t needed Chloe or Cynthia’s pushing to be more feminine tonight – she’d already decided her outfit for this evening months ago.

It was a bright red, silky halter, open back, with a deep-cut neckline. Obviously, she had had to forgo her bra. The skirt fanned out a little, and was easily swept by a breeze, which meant she kept nervously patting it down whenever she walked at anything more than her normal pace.

They made their way down together, from hotel room to grandiose ballroom that had been reserved for the dinner and following party.

They took their seats at one of the large, circular tables, and Beca was looking all around the room again and again for any sign of their biggest opponents.

She was not prepared for what greeted her when DSM entered.

Yes, the event was black tie, but this? She wasn’t expecting this.

Kommissar strolled in casually, hands in her pants pockets. She was wearing a suit. A proper suit. Black pants, black jacket, black tie, white shirt and black heels. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, and the only colour about her was the bright red lipstick.

Beca’s hand came up to cover her mouth slightly while she tried to calm herself down – but she couldn’t. All she wanted in this precise moment was to go up there, grab Kommissar by that stupid skinny tie and have her wicked way with her in the nearest hallway.

“You okay, Becs?” Chloe asked, concerned, and placed a hand on Beca’s arm. “Oh, you’re burning up!”

“I’m fine,” Beca lied. “Probably some bad fish for lunch.”

For the rest of dinner, Beca’s gaze didn’t stray from the DSM table, where Kommissar was sitting in her chair like it was the most comfortable throne in the world. She had one arm draped over the empty chair next to her, and in her other was another whiskey.

Beca hated it. Hated that she just had to sit here and do nothing while she waited for the opportune moment.

But then it came – the opportune moment, not Beca. Kommissar patted her red lips with her napkin, and politely excused herself. Although she hadn’t so much as glanced in Beca’s direction all night, now she made direct eye contact for just a moment. She headed for the bathrooms.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Beca mumbled to her group, and fumbled out of her chair, nearly spilling three different drinks in the process.

She hurried towards the hallway Kommissar had disappeared down, and took a moment outside the ladies’ to compose herself. If she was going to do what she had planned to do, she was going to do it without screwing up.

She took a final breath, and pushed the door open. The stalls were to her left. The sinks were very low, on her right, with a mirror covering the rest of that wall. Directly ahead of her was a floor-to-ceiling mirror. A mirror that Kommissar was leaning against.

Again, she had her hands in her pockets, and she had one leg crossed over the other very casually. It would have been clear to even the dumbest person alive that she hadn’t come here to pee.

When she didn’t speak, Beca decided to start the conversation. She turned to check her makeup in the sink mirrors as she said, “How was your journey?”

“Fine, danke. And yours?”

There she went again with the German. Beca somehow managed to keep her cool. “A little bumpy.”

“Sometimes bumpy is good,” Kommissar said, moving past Beca to flick the lock of the bathroom door, and then coming back to stand directly behind her. They watched each other in the mirror for a moment, and then Kommissar’s gaze travelled down Beca’s back, admiring the dress.

“You look…” she paused, and with her finger drew a line down Beca’s spine – the opening of the dress stopped very near to the top of her behind. “Delicious. Like a fresh apple, ready to be eaten…”

Beca’s breath hitched, and she stared into the mirror, watching Kommissar take in every inch of her. “You look handsome.”

“I do try… Now, shall we see if you did as you were told?” Kommissar grinned into the mirror at Beca. She had the good grace to look confused, as if she hadn’t understood Kommissar’s instruction.

The latter jumped as Kommissar placed her hands on Beca’s hips. She slowly began to bunch up the silken dress. Inch by inch, the hem moved further from Beca’s knees and closer to her waist.

As Beca’s bare behind came into view for Kommissar, she bit her lip. “You came all the way down here like this, weren’t you cold?” She smirked, letting go of the dress with one hand and instead placing her palm on one of Beca’s ass cheeks.

Beca’s sharp intake of breath did not go amiss, but she managed to speak anyway.

“Sie haben gefragt, so schön. Wie könnte ich ablehnen?” _You asked so nicely. How could I refuse?_

Kommissar’s eyes met hers in the mirror, and Beca just about turned the same colour as her dress at the sly smile she received.

“Colour me impressed,” the blonde said, hitching the dress up a little more. The sinks were so low, in fact, and the mirror so flush against them, that they could both see the front of Beca’s black thong.

“Wie heißen sie?” Beca asked, becoming breathless. _What’s your name?_

“Das Kommissar,” She responded, bringing her lips to Beca’s neck and placing firm kisses along it.

Beca rolled her eyes. “Dein echter name.” _Your real name._

“I want you to watch,” She muttered into Beca’s ear, making eye contact through the mirror.

“Weird name,” Beca mumbled, forgetting whatever they were talking about as Kommissar slid her hand over Beca’s hips and down between her legs. Beca couldn’t breathe. Kommissar pushed aside the thong, and with two fingers, started to gently toy with her.

“Oh my god,” she gasped out, bringing one of her own hands up. She held onto the back of Kommissar’s head, her chin resting on Beca’s shoulder. She had a devilish grin on her face, and Beca was pretty sure she wasn’t even blinking as she stared into the mirror, watching her own ministrations.

“That isn’t my name either, but I’m quite happy for you to scream it,” the blonde said matter-of-factly. Her free hand came around to Beca’s front, too, though this one slid up inside her dress, taking great care to fondle and caress her breasts.

Beca would swear she was going to go insane. “Please.”

She would have liked to say she was ready, given that she had asked for it, but she most definitely was not prepared for the feeling of Kommissar’s two fingers slipping inside her, the heel of her palm pressed into her clit.

She moaned, closing her eyes for just a moment. They opened again when Kommissar bit down on her shoulder a little harder than she perhaps meant to. “You must watch,” she ordered, and Beca nodded.

With one hand on the back of Kommissar’s neck to keep her close, the other was holding on tight to her wrist, the wrist of the hand currently very, very busy.

And when Kommissar started to place open-mouthed kisses up and down Beca’s neck and shoulder, Beca dug her nails in. Her hips began to roll to match Kommissar’s pace, and this prompted Kommissar to begin thrusting her hips, finding leverage to go harder, and faster.

They were both breathing heavily at this point, Beca letting out breathy, desperate little moans whenever Kommissar hit that sweet spot.

“It’s Luisa,” the blonde whispered. Beca was too far gone to understand exactly what she was talking about. “My name. Luisa.”

And then she was hitting that sweet spot with every single stroke, each thrust of her hips pushing her fingers right against it, and Beca was staring at herself in the mirror.

Dress bunched up at her hips, hair a mess, being fucked in a public bathroom by someone she’d met only twice – and she loved every second of it. Though she knew the door was locked and it was unlikely someone would walk in, the idea of just that was tantalising.

“Luisa…” She muttered, turning her head to the side to look directly into her eyes. “Luisa,” she said again, and again, and again. And when she felt herself tip over the edge, when _Luisa_ hit that sweet spot and pinched her nipple at the same time, Beca kissed her.

Luisa remained still, now, enjoying the kiss and letting Beca ride out her orgasm on her own terms – which she did so eagerly, moaning quietly, shaking a little as she came down from her high, breaking the kiss to take deep breaths.

The blonde used her left hand to turn Beca’s head back to face the mirror, and gently slipped her right from between the brunette’s legs. She brought it up in front of them, admiring her work, and kept eye contact with Beca as she sucked them clean – which drew another moan.

“The little mouse does squeak, then, yes?” she breathed, rearranging Beca’s dress for her before placing another kiss to her neck and pulling back.

She stepped aside to wash her hands and neaten up her suit. Beca was still panting, staring at herself in the mirror.

“We should do this again some time,” Luisa smirked, unlocking the door. “Don’t forget to clean yourself up before you rejoin the party.”

Beca saw her leave out the corner of her eye, and was finally able to relax. Her hair was a mess, her lipstick was completely smudged, and she was still shaking. She rested her hands on the sink to steady herself, to try and recollect after everything that had just happened.

That was the exact _opposite_ of the way she wanted things to go when she entered the bathroom.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Translations for the first bits of German:

 **“Ich würde dich einfach töten.”** (If I did want to sabotage you?) _“I would simply kill you.”_

 **“Ich werde sehen wollen dass riemen.”** (We will meet again at the Worlds opening party.) “ _I’ll want to see that thong.”_

Like all good fic writers, I used google translate, so I apologise if this is incorrect. Hope you enjoyed it :)


End file.
